Linen and Pearls
by blueskyblues
Summary: A collection of Hayffie prompts requested on my tumblr account. Feel free to drop one into my inbox on here or in my tumblr ask (link on my profile).
1. Chapter 1

Original Prompt (anon): Prompt- Effie is at Haymitch's house and he drops a drink on her her dress so she has to wear one of his shirts? Thank you:p

* * *

There weren't many things that Haymitch enjoyed about life.

He was a misanthropist, really. The only time he ventured out of Victors' Village (or his house for that matter) was when the liquor ran out. Most people in the district probably forgot he was still alive and he was convinced that if he did ever quit breathing, nobody would really care anyway.

He disliked people, anyway, so he didn't care that they didn't care. He would much rather be left to his drinking in peace. He especially disliked annoying women and one annoying woman in particular.

He was upstairs when the first call came from outside the front door but he passed it off simply as the wind.

It came again and with some insistent knocking on his door, too. He didn't have to see them or hear the voice to know who it was. Effie damn Trinket.

He pulled himself out of his chair taking the glass of scotch with him. He would definitely need it.

Once on the landing, he set the glass on the bannister and took a deep breath debating whether to let the vexatious thing in or not.

"The door's open," he called down the stairs and then felt like punching himself as the exuberant and rather windswept escort entered his home.

She sighed loudly and brushed a few strands of her wig back into place.

"You should really lock your door."

"Yes, I should." Haymitch said with a smirk only to receive a scowl of disapproval. "What do you want?"

She moved so that she was stood just underneath the upstairs landing.

"That was awfully rude. Would you like to rephrase that, perhaps?"

Haymitch shrugged.

Again she sighed and took a moment to collect herself. "I am here because it is reaping day tomorrow."

"So why are you here today?"

"To check up on you, of course. Nobody has seen you in weeks and Mayor Undersee was worried for your welfare. Besides, I thought you might appreciate a visit."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "I would appreciate it if you left."

Effie clicked her tongue and moved out of sight. Haymitch lent over his bannister.

"Where have you gone, woman?"

There was a pause. "Do you have any tea?"

"No, I don't have any tea. And don't go making yourself at home either. I'm alive, you can leave now."

She came back into sight empty handed. "It is really very rude not to offer your guest some hospitality. A drink, something to eat, polite conversation."

He snorted. "Since when has 'polite conversation' been my forte?"

"Well perhaps you could learn. No time like the present, Haymitch!" She replied, each syllable dripping with an unhealthy level of optimism.

Then, she began to make what must have been her take on polite conversation. He tuned out almost immediately as she began to babble on about her fabulous Capitol lifestyle. His head was hurting and Effie Trinket was doing nothing to help.

In his boredom, he found his eyes wandering to rather inappropriate places on her body – the low-cut dress leaving little to nothing to the imagination, or at least not at this angle anyway.

Truth be told, she probably wasn't a bad looking woman though it was hard to tell with all the garish makeup and wigs fit for use as feather dusters. She wasn't in bad shape either, she had a good figure and really nice-

"Haymitch!"

He heard his name and forced himself to stop thinking about Effie Trinket's assets.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Sure, you were just talking about…your friend Petunia."

She huffed in frustration. "That was five minutes ago, try to keep up!"

Off she went again.

Haymitch sighed loudly and began to wonder how hard he would have to hit his head against the wall to knock himself out.

Effie stopped talking for a moment. "Could you please come downstairs? My neck is beginning to hurt."

He rolled his eyes and began to turn. "Of course, anything for your royal-"

His elbow knocked the glass on the way down and sent it tumbling to the floor. It hit with a loud smash.

He took in the sight of Effie then, stood still as a statue, arms held out by her sides. Drenched.

"-Shit." Haymitch muttered under his breath knowing that it was only a matter of time before she would explode.

Luckily, he had the advantage of already being upstairs meaning that it took him barely any time at all to scramble into his bedroom and stand, his weight against the door, awaiting his impending disembowelment.

"Haymitch!"

He heard her heavy footfalls on the stairs and voice getting louder with each yell of his name.

"You let me in this room this second or, so help me, I'll-"

"Oh, you'll what sweetheart?" He was intrigued to hear her answer.

"I'll – I'll burn every bottle of liquor you have in this place."

He chuckled to himself. "Go for it, this whole place is a powder keg. You'll send the whole district sky high – including yourself, especially wearing that dress."

"You are not funny, Abernathy!" She tried furiously to turn the door knob.

He heard her sigh and fall against the door. "If you don't let me in I shall have no choice but to stay here. All night."

"What?!"

"I can't very well go outside in this weather with a wet dress on, can I? I could catch pneumonia."

"There's an idea," Haymitch muttered under his breath apparently not loud enough for her to hear as she continued to rattle on.

"Also, I could finish my story. I'm sure you would enjoy it."

He groaned. "Where's my drink?"

"All over me." She replied a little too quickly for his liking. "Let me in, Haymitch. I'm soaked to the skin and it is rather an unpleasant feeling."

He rolled his eyes. "And what do you propose I do about that?"

"You could lend me something of yours to wear?"

"No way, sweetheart. You're not wearing my clothes."

"Why not?"

He paused and ran a hand across his face. "I don't see why you'd want to anyway, it's not like they've been washed recently." Or at all for that matter, he added silently.

"Hm-" she said, taking a moment to consider. "I don't care. I'm starting to feel like a Christmas pudding."

"Haymitch-"she whined when he didn't reply, holding onto the word for as long as possible it seemed.

"God dammit woman!" he reluctantly conceded and stood away from the door. "Stop your whining."

She pushed open the door and stood before him and, for the first time, he saw just how much of a state she was in.

The pink satin dress was definitely the worst hit; the amber stains having seemingly travelled upwards as well as down through the tiny groves the fabric. Whatever chemical used to set the colour on the candy coloured wig had been removed completely, letting concentrated areas of pink gather around the brown of the alcohol. She really was going to kill him.

"Thankyou," she sighed and wiped away a drop of whisky from her forehead that had come from the swamped hair atop her head. She licked it off the tip of her finger.

Haymitch slumped down on the bed opening a bottle of liquor from his bedside table and he watched as Effie rummaged through the draws of his dresser.

"You know, it is almost impossible to find anything in here. The draws are very confused. You need to have designated draws for each item of clothing. Shirts in one, trousers in another."

"Why?" Haymitch questioned. "So that it is convenient for you to find my clothes every time I spill a drink on you."

"Exactly," she smiled winningly pulling out a light blue shirt that was evidently to her satisfaction. She moved into the bathroom, closing the door to.

Haymitch tried to ignore the fact that through the small gap between the door and the frame, Effie was completely visible. Any gallant or polite fellow may have told her that the door was still open and for her to shut it, but Haymitch, being neither of those things, kept his mouth closed.

He tried not to let his eyes linger for too long as, for the second time in the space of around ten minutes, he caught himself looking at Effie Trinket.

When she emerged a few minutes later, clad in light blue, for the first time in a long time, Haymitch was speechless.

"You look – uh –"

He took in the sight of her, real blonde hair falling at her shoulders

"Ridiculous? I know. Laugh away." Her gaze was sullen.

"You look…nice."

She smiled warmly. "Thankyou."

There was a sufficiently awkward pause to break up the conversation.

"You should change," Effie began. "You have a little…" she trailed off and gestured to a spot just under her shoulder.

Haymitch looked at the same place on his shirt and smirked knowingly. "Ah, vomit. Never could control the stuff."

He laughed to himself as he saw Effie visibly cringe at the sight.

He stood and crossed the room to where she was stood by the dresser and ushered her out of the way as he opened a draw and pulled out a shirt.

Effie moved again as to let him get to the bathroom but Haymitch simply pulled the soiled shirt over his head then and there.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she flailed around for a moment before turning away completely.

Haymitch pulled the new shirt over himself.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Effie, taking her chances and turning back around.

"Well, I'm just returning the favour, sweetheart."

Her look of confusion invited his laugh to intensify.

"You know you really should close the door properly before you change."

"But I did-" she stammered.

Haymitch shook his head. "Could see right through that little gap."

"Oh, could you?" she questioned sarcastically. His smirk answered her question. "Could you?!" she asked, this time much louder.

Haymitch laughed openly as she began to hit him feebly against his back and arms.

"You disgraceful man!" She yelled as she left him alone in his bedroom.

Yes. Annoying Effie Trinket was definitely one of the few things about life that he did enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Original Prompt (anon): I can't believe you are only 15 years old, your writing style is incredible. Ever consider pursuing a career in the field? Also, I'd really like a "Part 2" to the snippet you wrote about Haymitch spilling his drink on Effie. I thoroughly enjoyed it ;)

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

Effie looked up from the ground. "What does it look like?"

Haymitch didn't answer as he continued down the rest of the stairs.

"I am cleaning up the mess you made."

He frowned and waved his hand at her, slumping down on the sofa and opening a bottle of something. "Just leave it will you?" He asked, the cork still in his mouth. He spat it out and chuckled when he heard her gasp.

"You are vile." He saw her stand, hands on her hips. "And no, I will not 'just leave it'. If this glass was not properly cleaned before use, there could be all kinds of bacteria and germs all over it. Now, I'm not sure about you, but I would rather not get blood poisoning from standing on a shard of dirty broken glass -"

She continued on a tirade about cleanliness and a multitude of diseases the Haymitch doubted were even real. Her lecture was supposed to be educational and informative, yet Haymitch could feel his brain cells slowly dying at each word.

He watched as her arms flailed wildly at her sides as she began to go into a great amount of depth on the matter and Haymitch was certain that he had never seen her talk so extensively about something. That was saying a lot –her oration over the importance of proper behaviour in public a few years back still haunted him to this day.

It was strange how he forgot the rest of the night except for the exact moment Effie Trinket showed up at one of the bars in the Capitol, cheeks a violent scarlet to match that hideous blazer of hers. Evidently the woman had a way of worming herself into every crevice of his forgotten memories and it pissed him off greatly.

He realised as she talked that he needed to do something, anything, to quieten her.

Before he was even fully aware of his actions, he had backed Effie Trinket up against the nearest wall, his hands at either side of her waist, palms flat against the plaster.

"Shut up." he mumbled, his face in such a close proximity to hers he wouldn't even have to move an inch to kiss her.

She raised her eyebrows. "That was really very rude of you to-"

Haymitch backed her up further, a small gasp escaping her lips as he did. He felt her eyelashes tickling his cheek.

"God, you're so fucking annoying."

"What?" she asked, apparently in disbelief.

"You. Are. So. Fucking. Annoying."

"How dare you. I am not annoying, I am simply informing you on the basics of cleanliness in the home, a subject in which you are clearly lacking in knowledge."

"Touché, sweetheart."

She huffed indignantly, her warm breath reaching his neck. "Well how would you propose that I stop annoying you so that I may get out of this… rather awkward position?"

Haymitch smiled to himself. The possibilities were endless.

"How about you just keep your mouth shut, give me some peace and quiet for once. You talk far too much."

"Oh, I talk too much?" she mused and paused for a moment. "How else do you think that I should use my lips, then? If not for talking."

Haymitch felt his mouth go dry at her somewhat suggestive proposition and all he found himself able to do was chuckle darkly and allow his imagination to romp. "I'm not sure that you'd like my answer to that, sweetheart."

Effie took that as an invitation to continue and she popped open the grey pearlescent button. "Try me."

He didn't grace her with a reply - or rather, he didn't have time to before her lips were on his.

Haymitch took a moment to try and decipher whether this was some insanely weird dream and he would wake up truly disturbed with himself for managing to conjure up such a situation. Somewhere along the way however, he found himself kissing her back.

He felt her smile as she continued to work blindly on his shirt fastenings as he kissed her. Once done and rid of the fabric, he felt her arms around his neck, urging him on.

He ran a hand through her hair, coiling golden curls around his fingers that he could never have imagined until now. He had no idea why she would want to hide such beauty away underneath the artificial shit she called fashion.

Beauty? He had to stop thinking like that – this was a one-time thing. She had tempted him and he had succumbed. That was all this was.

He ended his train of thought as he heard her laughing between kisses, the sweet tone so full of desire hanging in the air.

"You're eager," she said in a whisper that sent another wave of lust crashing through his entire being.

"And you're a damn temptress."

He took her hands by the wrist, pinning them on the wall above her head. She was trying to take control and he wouldn't allow it. She made a noise but he swallowed it with another deep kiss before she could laugh again.

Effie swung a leg up around his hips, pulling him into her and eliciting a deep groan from his throat. He took the hint and pulled her other leg around him to meet the other. She locked her legs tightly around his hips, thoroughly enjoying the feel of him against her and the next thing she knew, her back was against the threadbare and somewhat rough sofa cushions.

His name fell from her lips absentmindedly as he went about his business, leaving no patch of skin untouched and ,in return, she let her hand run lower and underneath his trouser line, prompting a throaty groan.

He went to kiss her again but he felt a finger at his lips.

Effie pushed herself up of the sofa, smiling down smugly at the half undone man. "I'm going to get my dress."

"What?" he breathed finding it a little difficult to slow his heart back to a normal rate.

"I'm going to get my dress. If I leave it soaking for too long in your bathroom sink, it will ruin the fabric completely."

Haymitch decided to keep his mouth shut about the wig; evidently she hadn't seen the state of it yet.

"Jesus, Effie, can it not wait?"

"No, it can't."

She took a moment to brush her hair back to where it was supposed to sit and Haymitch watched her as she climbed the stairs.

That woman would be the death of him.


	3. Chapter 3

Original Prompt (anon): only a few days after effie was rescued haymitch comes to her room in 13 and finds her looking at her reflection in the mirror and starting crying because she feels ugly now with no wig/make up + bruises and haymitch tells her she's not ugly.

* * *

When Haymitch had first heard about Effie having a compartment to herself in Thirteen, he was outraged.

The woman had barely been in the hospital three days before they moved her with instructions not to leave her compartment unless absolutely necessary.

He could only imagine that she would be going out of her mind, alone and isolated again, like she was before – this was like a torture in itself.

Only two people knew her exact location, three after Haymitch had harried Plutarch on the matter. He told him and he went alone that night.

XxX

Haymitch's hand hesitated above the door handle. He checked the grey painted numbers on the door again to make sure he wouldn't intrude on some family's private matters, though most of them should be at dinner now.

It was the right room. Effie Trinket was in there.

He wondered what state she would be in because Haymitch knew better than anyone that sometimes isolation could bring you closer to insanity than people might think.

A glimmer of courage drove him forward to press down on the handle of the door. He opened it a few inches to look inside.

The room was dimly lit by one of the bedside lamps making the bright white furnishings in the room a warmer shade of yellowy-orange. The bed sheets were still pressed immaculately and a tray of food and cup of water was left untouched on the dresser. On the tray was a single pill in a small paper cup which Effie clearly hadn't bothered to take.

She was stood before the mirror on the wall, either too lost in her mind or simply unaware to take note of his presence.

He entered and pushed the door closed as softly as he could behind him so as not to startle her.

"Effie?"

She didn't move at the sound of his voice, her eyes unfocused and cloudy in the mirror. She continued to stare at her own reflection for a good two minutes but Haymitch stayed put. She needed help and she needed someone to be with her now.

She opened her mouth to speak but it took a moment for the words to follow suit.

"It was like armour. It made me brave. I wish I had it now." She whispered and bought a hand up to her face.

Haymitch knew what she was talking about. She missed her make-up and her bright, fake hair and her fantastical dresses. She wanted to be hidden away.

Her index finger shook as she moved it to touch a bloody cut across her forehead that was not yet properly healed. As she did so, a long pained wail emanated from her mouth.

Haymitch shot forwards, the sudden noise startling him. He wanted to hold her but he was too afraid to touch her.

Eventually the noise trailed off as she rested her head against the glass, her shallow breaths clouding its surface.

It was with a tentative hand that Haymitch reached out and, as lightly as he could, brushed his finger against a small piece of unmarred skin on her shoulder. She flinched at first, squeezing her eyes shut, but as he touched her softly again, she began to grow accustomed to the feeling, realizing that he meant her no harm.

With some gentle coaxing, she turned to face him. Her eyes were cast to the ground, feeling nothing but humiliation that he should have to look at her like this.

"Look at me," he asked softly. She did and he swore he felt his heart break.

Her eyes told him everything she couldn't. They told of pain and sorrow and woe and they told of her turmoil. He tried not to look too closely because the icy blue would surely drown him when he had to keep his feet firmly grounded for her sake, and his own, else they would both go under.

With each long moment that passed, he watched as Effie recoiled further into herself, already beginning to slip away with tears in her eyes. One fell, its path disrupted by her swollen cheek.

"Don't cry," Haymitch reached up and caught it with his finger.

She looked away and crossed her arms over her chest. "How can you look at something so ugly for so long? Doesn't it make you sick?"

Haymitch was confused until he realised that she was talking about herself.

"Make me sick?" he asked, completely astounded that she could think that. "Do you really think I would feel that way?"

More tears fell as her answer.

"Of course I don't. Hell, Effie, you've never looked more beautiful." It slipped passed his lips like oil on water and he didn't care.

She still didn't look at him, her face crumpling.

"You're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And if they do, send them to me."

He thought about going then, feeling his own resolve beginning to crumble but before he could, her arms wrapped around his waist and he didn't give a second thought to holding her.

His hand went up to stroke her hair as she wept into his shoulder.

"You know, it was meant to be a compliment," he said in an attempt at lightness but neither of them laughed.

They held each other for a long time, neither person finding any great desire to pull away.

Haymitch knew that there was a meeting held in Command at 20:00, his arm said so. Coin would not be best pleased at his absence, but now more than ever, he really didn't care what the punitive fifty-something woman thought.

Now more than ever, Effie needed him. And he would be there.


	4. Chapter 4

Original Prompt (anon): Please, write about Hayffie's first kiss!

* * *

A gasp emanated from Effie Trinket's mouth as her two tributes stood back to back, nightlock berries held out for all to see.

"It can't end like this," she muttered to a half inebriated Haymitch at her side who simply leaned forward in his seat.

The mentor and escort had done everything in their power to keep the two alive, and now they throw it back in their faces and threaten to commit suicide. Effie swore that if they made it out alive, she would be having words about the importance of being grateful. Those gifts hadn't been cheap and they certainly hadn't kept them both alive to die at the last minute.

The thought saddened her. Twelve had never been this close to winning before, with exception to Haymitch, and it made her realise just how much she didn't want to lose them both.

Much to her despair, Katniss and Peeta began to count then.

"One,"

Effie was on her feet now grasping the glass of indigo liquor with both hands.

"Two,"

They couldn't end it like this; they couldn't simply have no victor.

"Three."

The Capitol should have stepped in, this must be against the rules or – oh Lord, they're really going to let them!

The mentor and escort watched in horror as the midnight blue berries passed the lips of their tributes. Effie willed them vocally to spit them out.

A loud and frantic Claudius Templesmith cut above them and Effie froze.

"Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!"

Effie barely felt the glass slip from between her fingers as she bought her hands to her face. No, this was all some cruel dream. They must be dead, they ate the berries! It's impossible!

Haymitch was on his feet beside her and in just as much a state of shock as she.

"We won," she breathed, and then louder. "We won!"

Without really thinking, Effie launched herself full force into Haymitch who staggered back at the sudden impact. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"They did it!" Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

It took a moment or two for him to wrap his arms around her back and when he did, Effie wasn't on the floor anymore.

Haymitch span the two of them around a few times, laughing like a madman the entire time, caught completely in the moment.

When Effie felt the ground underneath her feet again, she was dizzy and breathless and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Her wig had been knocked slightly askew but she couldn't find it in her to care.

The two stood for a moment, drinking in their long-awaited victory, and waiting for the other to make the next move.

It was Haymitch who did in the end. He moved forward and so unceremoniously took her face in his hands and kissed her square on the mouth that she had little to no time to be shocked or do anything stupid like kiss him back.

It was so pragmatic that it couldn't have been anything more than a sudden bout of happiness on his part. Besides, he was half drunk. He probably wouldn't remember a thing tomorrow morning.

He pulled away, still grinning uncontrollably.

Effie made a note of this short moment and the fact that Haymitch Abernathy was genuinely happy. She wished that she could see more of him this way, she liked it.

"Come on then. Let's go get our victors." Haymitch said, making his way toward the elevator.

Effie nodded and, smiling, joined her colleague.

"Our victors". She liked that too.


	5. Chapter 5

Original Prompt (effietrinkct): Effie watches Haymitch win his games and secretly roots for him? :3

* * *

"- it's pure chance he's made it this far."

Effie Trinket listened as her mother's friends discussed matters of the Games.

These were her first and though her mother had protested fiercely against her watching at such a young age, this was a Quarter Quell and it was special. That was why the entire family and her parent's friends and colleagues and bosses had all been invited around to the house.

Effie felt the sofa dip beside her and turned to face her Uncle Severus.

"Mind if I join you?"

Effie shook her head in reply knowing she didn't really have an option now that he had taken the liberty of a free seat.

The man sighed beside her and took a sip from a bright cerulean drink that looked both appetizing and revolting at the same time to the young girl.

"So who have you got tabs on?"

Effie hesitated. Her friends at school had laughed at her when she told them about rooting for Haymitch Abernathy; they didn't think he could win but she was determined to prove them wrong. Even her family had cast her odd glances when she made her opinion clear. "Uh-"

"Well there's only two to choose from now." He pointed out and Effie watched as the girl from One, Asper Lumin, made her way through the woods, closer and closer to Haymitch.

Effie bit her lip. "Well… I guess I like Haymitch."

"The boy?" her uncle questioned in disbelief. She nodded and he exhaled, calling over his brother.

Effie's father appeared, already merry and on his third or fourth bottle of champagne which was supposed to be for the crowning of the victor.

"You know you're daughters got her heart set on the boy winning?"

Her father smiled fondly and ruffled the girl's blonde curls. "I wish I could say I didn't. She hasn't taken her eyes off him since the Tribute Parade. I do believe my little girls in love."

Both men chuckled heartily and Effie huffed, hating being taunted._ They'll all see when he wins._

She smelt the alcohol on her father's breath as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "You know I don't mean it, little dove. I'm only teasing. You love whomever you want."

Effie nodded absent-mindedly, eyes trained back on the screen as he left.

It took a while for Asper to find Haymitch but not once did Effie lose interest. She simply kept hoping and praying and swearing to herself that she would not lose hope in him. Every drop of blood and every blow to the stomach on her part meant he was one step closer to wining – she had to think of it like that and not the other way around.

Soon enough her mother appeared, the frock of teal chiffon and silver rhinestones swaying around her knees as she moved quickly amongst the clumps of people.

"Effie, dear, come along now." She held out her hand and Effie frowned.

"Why? I need to see who wins!" Effie protested sinking further into the sofa.

"You are too young-"

"No! I need to see if he wins!"

Effie struggled as her mother made an attempt to lift her from the sofa and away from the television.

"Marissa-!"

Effie heard her father's voice from across the room.

"Let her see. If she thinks she can handle it, she can handle it. She can't be a child forever."

Her mother obeyed and reluctantly let her go, stepping away and allowing Effie to continue to watch the final battle.

It was terribly bloody and the young girl gasped in horror as Asper's eye was cut from its socket, a pained scream pouring from her mouth as blood curdled with dried mud. She took a blind swing with her axe, hitting Haymitch hard in the stomach. He fell to the ground and dropped his weapon uncaringly at his side looking as if ready to give up at any moment.

"Come on," Effie whispered, urging him on so quietly that no one else could possibly hear her.

Taking a short moment to collect himself, Haymitch kicked one of his legs under Asper's sending her tumbling to the ground and part way down the grassy hill.

Haymitch pulled himself up from the ground and began to stagger upwards, Asper hot on his heels with the bloodied axe still held strongly in hand.

Minutes dragged by as both, having suffered potentially fatal injuries, stumbled up the hill leaving red marks along the grass as they went.

Effie began to grow impatient. Haymitch needed to hurry up and if he didn't hurry up he would die. She knew where he was going; he was trying to get to the cliff face he found, the one that sent stones back over the edge.

It took him a while to, but eventually he made it to the top of the hill where the grass faded into harsh grey rock. The effort of the climb and the extensive amount of blood lost bought him to his knees.

Asper approached, the pursuit apparently having tired her as she stood swaying in front of him for a moment. With a strained shout, she let the axe fly.

Effie's breath caught in her throat as she watched in what seemed like slow motion as the weapon sailed through the air. Not once throughout the entirety of the Games had Asper missed and as the axe came closer and closer to Haymitch, Effie heard corks pop from champagne bottles and glasses clink with others throughout the room. The sound made her upset – they were giving up on him already.

The party stilled however, when the axe flew straight past his head and over the side of the cliff.

Every person in the room knew just what was going to happen next and, of course, so did Haymitch. He fell forward, bleeding out onto the ground as it returned. It spun around and around until it was stopped by bone and, as quickly as that, Asper collapsed. Dead.

The cannon sounded but still no one moved, stunned into silence. Someone began to clap and slowly others followed until the room erupted into furious applause, cheering on the new victor.

Effie ran to her father and threw her arms around his waist, jumping up and down as she did.

"He won daddy! He won! I said he would, and he did!"

He lifted the six year old up to kiss her forehead before settling her on his hip. "Yes. You were right; I should've listened to you before I placed my bets."

Effie giggled. "Maybe next time, daddy."

"Yes, maybe next time I won't look past the underdog."

That night, Effie stayed awake long after her mother had put her to bed thinking of her father's words, the truth behind them and how she would have to remember them for when she met Haymitch.

Luckily for her, he wasn't really one for words.


	6. Chapter 6

**Original Prompt (anon): If you still take prompts, could you do a drabble on Haymitch going through withdrawal symptoms and Effie being there for him?**

* * *

"…It's Haymitch."

Effie pressed the phone closer to her ear, fully aware of the worry in her voice as she spoke. "What? What's happened to him?"

The line went quiet for a few moments before Peeta spoke again. "He's not good. Katniss and I, we've been taking care of him the best we can but… It's hard. He's being stubborn as ever and he won't eat anything; he hasn't for at least a week now-"

"Well what on earth is wrong with him?" Effie questioned, lining up a stapler across a thick document one handed.

"He's stopped drinking, or is trying to."

She pressed down and missed, the staple half on-half off the papers. "He's doing what?"

"He's trying to stop. For good I think."

"The fool!" Effie said, leaning back in her chair. "Honestly, is he trying to kill himself?"

"We've spoken to a doctor about the withdrawal, he explained that most things should clear up on their own but Katniss thinks that he's getting worse. He's been asking for you, Effie."

"For-for me?" She questioned, completely dumbfounded.

"Yes. He's quite adamant."

There was a long pause as Effie considered her options. She heard the silent plea in the boy's voice and eventually she sighed. "I'll be down on the next train."

XxX

"Haymitch," Peeta spoke quietly. "Haymitch."

The ex-mentor groaned, not bothering to open his eyes. "What?"

"Effie's here."

"Effie's he- Why is Effie here?"

"You've been asking for her, remember?"

He gave a small shake of the head.

Effie stood with Katniss at the opposite end of the room, bags still in hand. "Why doesn't he remember?"

"Something called… Peeta, what's that thing called again?"

He looked confused for a moment. "Wernicke-Korsakoff?"

Katniss nodded. "Right, that's not too much to do with the withdrawal, it's just all of the heavy drinking catching up with him. The doctor came by a few days ago to give him something, so he should be okay. I think he called it 'alcohol amnesic syndrome'."

Effie exhaled, trying to soak in the new information thrown her way. "That's a little easier to understand." She glanced over to her former colleague, now bedridden.

Peeta came over and Effie noticed the dark bags underneath his eyes , he hadn't been sleeping properly, that much was evident.

"We can wait downstairs for a while if you-"

"No, dear," Effie interjected. "You and Katniss go home, you both need rest. I can deal with Haymitch."

"Are you sure?" Peeta asked.

Effie let out a small laugh. "Oh, I've had plenty of practice, don't you worry. Besides, you two have done more than enough already."

Still unsure, Peeta nodded as he and Katniss began to leave the room.

"You know where we are if you need us."

Effie smiled kindly as Peeta closed the door behind him.

Now alone, neither person spoke for a while and Effie took in the sight of Haymitch, skin dull and yellowed slightly, hair plastered across his sweat-drenched forehead. He was a state.

"Don't think I've ever seen you this quiet before." He rasped, eventually breaking the pause, dry lips forming a smile of sorts.

She shook her head and moved towards his bed, perching on the edge of the mattress. "You're a damn fool, Haymitch Abernathy."

He didn't reply, just watched her.

"Why are you doing this?"

He shifted in bed and went to sit up but Effie stopped him. "Don't sit up."

He slumped back down again, closing his eyes. "I don't know, Effie. I just don't think I'm doing anyone any favours by staring at the bottom of a bottle all day. I just feel like I'm wasting time away."

She smiled slightly at his realisation.

"I wanna make good use of time from now on. Do something that isn't drinking, you know?"

"Yes. I know."

Effie reached up to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, briefly grazing the longish stubble at his jaw.

"Maybe you could start with a shave," she muttered. "And a haircut."

"Those are the least of my worries right now," Haymitch replied, pulling himself to sit up despite her protests. He flinched briefly, resting his back against the headboard.

"You're right," said Effie, fingers going to the edge of one of the wool blankets atop the bed. "Are you warm enough? Or… too warm? I don't suppose you've had much fresh air recently, would you like a window opening?"

He sent her a look.

"What? I've just spent the past day on a train to be here. You will let me look after you."

Haymitch watched her as she went to the window, opening it and looking outside. "You have the most beautiful view."

He made a sound of agreement though really he was fully aware that he wasn't thinking about the landscape.

The late afternoon sun caught Effie across her face and hair that was laid shining across her shoulders, a colour to shame any daffodil in the spring. She looked positively radiant.

"You took your time." He spoke when she next looked over.

"I got on the first train I could, I couldn't really have gotten here any sooner." She said, not moving from her place by the window.

"No, you know what I mean."

Effie bit her bottom lip and shifted her weight to the other leg – she knew exactly what he meant. "I just – I got caught up. A new job and…things."

"It's been months, Effie. Not even so much as a phone call." He said and there was something in his voice that Effie couldn't quite place a finger on. Hurt? Betrayal, maybe?

She looked down at her feet, opening her mouth as if to speak again, but promptly closed it.

"I was gonna come and see you, but look how that turned out."

Effie looked up at that and after a few moments, she moved back towards the bed. "Did – did you do this for me?"

He stopped looking at her for a moment. "Yes – well, no, not.… partly for you, yes."

As much as she tried, Effie could not keep the smile from her lips.

"You can stop with the stupid grin, Trinket, complacency doesn't look good on you."

"I wasn't being complacent," She said defensively. "I was smiling because you're an idiot. You needn't do things like this for my benefit, Haymitch."

"Well it was the only way I could get you to come visit. And clearly it worked, here you are."

"Yes," she sighed at how completely impossible he was being. "Here I am."


	7. Chapter 7

**Original Prompt: Haymitch and Effie dance at Peeta and Katniss's wedding 3**

* * *

Effie had been to a lot of weddings.

Family, friends, friends of friends. They were all held inside opulent Capitol halls and ballrooms cluttered with plumes of peacock feathers and ice sculptures of the happy couple. They were all beautiful, yes. But this was breath-taking.

The sun was just beginning to retreat on the horizon, the sky dappled with oranges, reds, and dusky purples, casting a warm glow across the meadow. A few stars were out, reminding her that it would soon be dark but that hardly mattered.

The candles that adorned each table and a few overhead branches flickered softly in the slight summer breeze, contained in old jars to stop them from extinguishing completely. Birds and crickets hummed along indolently to the music played by a small folk band, creating an ambiance all of its own.

Effie felt a sudden tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Haymitch stood behind her, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

"How're you holding up?" he nodded to the few used tissues that scattered the table.

"Oh, fine now. Thankyou."

He chuckled. "Thought you were gonna drown me doing all that crying."

She tapped his arm lightly. "Shush, you. I'm allowed to cry."

"Why? Because the kids are all grown up?" He smirked, sending a glance toward the newlyweds.

"Precisely."

Both now cast their eyes toward Katniss and Peeta as they made their way towards the makeshift dance floor, a few couples already swaying to the gentle music playing.

He half sighed when he noticed her staring, extending a hand. "Come on then,"

She smiled softly at the offer. "Oh, you don't have to. I know you don't like to dance."

He shrugged, not withdrawing his hand. "I think I can make an exception."

The corners of her mouth tugged at her to smile as she took his hand, allowing him to lead her across the meadow.

She held up the hem of her pale pink dress a little as they trod through the long grass and wildflowers towards a more trodden-down section where they took up the hold of the dance, his hand on the swell of her hip and hers on his shoulder.

They swayed for a moment in silence.

"It's so beautiful here. Who did all of this?"

"Peeta mainly, but I helped a little. He did the cake." Haymitch nodded to the still uncut cake on a small wooden table. It was unmistakably Peeta's handiwork, ivy leaves and gypsophilia blossoms iced to perfection.

"Well it's lovely."

"Not too simple?" He asked, smirking.

She smiled back. "No. I think it's very romantic. Intimate."

Haymitch exhaled, chuckling a little. "Steady on there, sweetheart. Don't go getting any ideas."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." She nudged him lightly.

There was another silence as both enjoyed the others quiet company.

At the other end of the dance floor the Mellark's observed their ex-mentor and escort swaying inattentively to the music, smiling and conversing with one another.

"Haymitch and Effie look like they're enjoying themselves." Peeta pointed out.

Katniss nodded in agreement, taking a short sip from her champagne glass. "They're close now aren't they?"

"Yes. Despite how much they used to argue and get on each other's nerves during the Games, I think they've always been close."

"Really? You think they were ever…together?"

Peeta shrugged. "Maybe. But I think they've always respected each other enough to hold it all together."

There was a short pause as they looked on.

"He's going to kiss her." Peeta thought aloud.

"What? How can you tell?" Katniss asked.

"Look at how he's looking at her. He's not listening to a word she's saying."

Katniss snorted, completely unconvinced. "Haymitch never listened to her. That was partly why they argued so much."

"No, it's different. Trust me - it's a man thing."

She rolled her eyes. "I still don't think he'll kiss her."

Smirking, Peeta shrugged and picked up a champagne glass from a nearby table.

He carried on watching the two after Katniss had turned away momentarily to speak to a guest. Fleeting glances were made, short laughs exchanged, hands allowed to wander that small amount further. Over the course of what couldn't have been more than a minute, theycontinued to get closer and closer until-

"Katniss," he spoke, trying to disguise the smile in his voice.

"What is i-?" She cut herself off automatically at the sight in front of her.

Surely enough, Haymitch had bowed his head to kiss Effie, one hand still on her hip and the other on her cheek. She was kissing him back too, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach.

A few people who had noticed stopped dancing for a moment and applauded them.

"How did you-"

Peeta leant over and kissed his bride, grinning at her mystified expression.

"Told you so."


	8. Chapter 8

**Original Prompt (anon): here is a prompt for you :) AU where Effie was with Haymitch during the announcement of the Quarter Quell (75th Games) Haymitch then finally see's her for who she really is that she isn't as oblivious that she is just as afraid and angry as he is.**

* * *

"Here. You need it more than I do."

Haymitch accepted the bottle of white liquor from Effie's hand with a hint of an appreciative smile, muttering a word or two of thanks under his breath.

She had been here little less than a week now, some problem with a storm further inland causing disruptions to the travel network – or so the television said. Haymitch thought otherwise.

He watched as Effie lifted her teacup, taking a tentative sniff of the less-than-innocent liquid inside. After she had apparently registered the drink for her approval, she took a small sip as one might to check for poison.

He found himself grinning at the more than displeased face she made as she set the cup down on a table as if it were about to detonate.

"I'm not at all sure how you drink that."

He shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, sweetheart."

She sat in the armchair next to his with a comprehending murmur.

Both eyed the television screen impatiently, wanting nothing more than for this to be over. A set of white letters stared back: Announcement of the Third Quarter Quell airing in 0 hours 03 minutes 55 seconds. Viewing is mandatory.

"What do you think it will be?" Effie asked quietly, folding her hands in her lap.

"No telling. Whatever it is, I can guarantee it will be as completely unbearable as always."

She kept quiet at that knowing that he spoke words that she could never say nor really agree to, regardless of whether or not it was the truth.

The next three minutes were spent in a thick and uncomfortable silence.

As the countdown reached five zero's, a beep sounded and the seal of Panem was shown before it was replaced moments later of a live feed from the City Circle. Applause roared as the President took to the podium, an envelope containing the grounds of the new and glorified Games in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of the Games, that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance and now, on this the seventy-fifth anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the Third Quarter Quell."

It was a reflex really when she reached for his hand, a gesture both were accustomed to after years of bloodbaths and dead tributes. It was like a lifeline.

"As a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this the Third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors of each district."

Effie heard glass smash and felt her hand fall slack against the now empty leather chair beside her and for a moment she was too petrified to react. It wasn't until she was aware of a sudden cold chill running through the house that she thought to look up. The front door was ajar and Haymitch was gone.

Effie pulled herself up from her own chair, avoiding the spilt liquor on the wooden floor.

She reached the bottom of the porch steps without a single idea of how she got there and felt hard gravel beneath her stocking-clad feet, cursing for not putting on shoes no matter how impractical they may have been for chasing down a victor gone astray.

There were no streetlights and she wished for artificiality, the moon not nearly bright enough to light her way.

It took her a moment, shivering in the cold to spot a retreating figure at the end of Victor's Village and, thankfully, said figure wasn't moving at too brisk-a pace.

"Haymitch!" she called as she began to run, ignoring the damp gravel and grass.

He didn't stop but as she got closer, an outstretched hand managed to brush his arm. A tighter grip got him to stop.

"Haymitch, I-"

"No. Don't." The words billowed from his mouth as clouds in the freezing air

"Where are you going? Please just think about this for-"

"Think about this?! Tell me, Effie, what the fuck is there for me to think about?"

Another figure brushed past them, dark braid swaying as it sprinted away. Neither Haymitch nor Effie bothered to call after her.

"I'm going into the Arena again-"

"You don't know that," she cut in, a lump forming the back of her throat at the thought

"Oh no, I do. You either call my name or Peeta's and I can't let the boy go back in again. I won't…"

"Haymitch, this is really no time to be heroic. You must think logically for a moment." She held up a hand when he tried to interject. "What if your name is called and Peeta volunteers? What then?" Silence was her answer. "You see, you can try and try to keep them safe but you can't – not really."

Her comment struck a nerve. He had tried to keep his family safe but he had failed. Though she didn't say it, he understood what she was trying to. Some way or another, the Capitol always wins.

He lifted his head to look her in the eye for the first time. "And what about you? What the hell do you make of all of this?"

"I think it's…" She paused. "Upsetting."

"Is that it? 'Upsetting'? I thought you cared a little more than that." He spat back, leaning against a crumbling brick wall.

"I do, I do!" She hissed. "You think I want to do this? To put two of Twelves victors back into the arena? I hate this! I hate my job, I hate myself, I hate the Games, I hate-" Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as soon as the words slipped out, blue eyes wide and glancing around as though she had divulged the thought surrounded by peacekeepers.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow, a little too stunned to do otherwise.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm just so… angry." She whispered, eventually retracting her hands.

"Yeah, I get that."

"And I'm – I'm scared for Katniss and Peeta. I'm scared for you."

"I'm scared for them too."

"But not yourself?"

Haymitch shook his head. "I can't be. The kids have their families, people who care about them waiting for if they get out alive. I don't have any of that."

She moved towards him, a look of gritty determination written across her features. "You mustn't think like that - I will not allow it. I care for you. Deeply. You have been a colleague of mine for many years and, at times, a friend. Katniss and Peeta care for you too, I know they do."

He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. Why would she consider him a friend - all they ever did was argue?

She evidently took note of his expression as she stiffened. "I'm sorry, but it had to be said."

There was a pregnant pause.

"I can't do it. They shall have to find somebody else. Another Escort." A hand flew up to her face to cover her eyes. "Another Escort."

"You have to," he said, voice still distant. She shook her head.

"I can't," she battled with the tears behind her eyes, trying desperately not to cry. She didn't want to be selfish tonight.

"If you hand in your notice now, Snow's going to know something's up. Hell, Effie, you're meant to be excited. You can't think like this, not now. Just… be yourself." For a man just informed of his possible return to the arena, he had a remarkably level head. The cogs were always ticking, it seemed.

Nonetheless, it was another bar on her voice, another bar on the thoughts she wasn't supposed to have. One more and she might explode.

"I don't really think it's myself anymore," she looked up and met his sad eyes.

He nodded in understanding. "Even so."

"Even so…I'll see what I can do," She spoke, unsure of what exactly that entailed. She said it for her own benefit, to make herself feel useful somehow. "I'll stay."

Deep down she realised she never could have left anyway. Her heart was keeping her there now; she loved the victors of Twelve too dearly to let some uncaring, emotionless drone take her place. They were all too close now, a family of sorts, a-

"A team. We're a team." The words flowed so easily from her tongue as she spoke aloud, uncaring of who might have heard.

She saw Haymitch smile briefly at that, taking one of her cold hands in his own as he began to lead her back to Victors Village.


	9. Chapter 9

**Original Prompt (anon): can you write a thing where Effie gets tipsy at a party of sorts and Haymitch sees her dancing start getting more provocative the more she drinks.. etc**

* * *

"One more."

Effie tried to focus hard on the small shot glass in hand.

"You said that five times ago," Haymitch slurred from her side, already fairly merry himself.

Effie made a noise. "Has it been that many? No it hasn't, I don't think it hasn't."

Haymitch snorted at one of her rare grammatical slip-ups that only seemed to occur after she had been on the good-stuff for a half hour.

"Okay, I'm going," she knocked back the mouthful and flinched, her entire body shaking a little. "Strong." She muttered as she began to stagger away back towards the dance floor. She stumbled but managed to regain her balance by inelegantly grabbing a marble bust of the President.

Haymitch turned back around to face the bar again, chuckling. He took a long gulp of whatever he was drinking and glanced over to Chaff, passed out face down on the surface of the bar. He wished he was in such a state himself, the loud music and bright colours beginning to bother him greatly.

This was not the civilized, elegant type of party he imagined Effie Trinket to attend when she wasn't busy being all up tight and bitchy during the Games. Everyone was pissed and if they weren't already, they were well on their way.

Somehow Effie had managed to pull him along and, in consolation, told him that he could bring Chaff since he was in the Capitol too, though at the moment he wasn't being very good company.

Haymitch wasn't sure why they were at this party, Effie said it was a friend's birthday or something but judging by the skimpy purple number she was sporting, she was looking for a little more than friendship.

"Damn, it's so loud here." Haymitch turned at the sound of Chaff's voice, straining against the music.

"Good, you're awake. I'm bored."

"Why'd you bring me here, 'Mitch?" The man wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Haymitch shrugged. "Trinket said I could bring you."

"Thanks," Chaff retorted and finished his drink, swirling the half melted ice around in the bottom of the glass. "Let's go."

"What? Where are we going?"

"To a real bar with real liquor," he eyed the multi-coloured concoctions sceptically. "And real women."

Haymitch snorted. "Good luck with that. I challenge you to find one 'real' woman in the Capitol."

Chaff grinned. "Well for what they lack in natural beauty they definitely make up for in other departments." He made a sound of contentment and Haymitch chuckled.

"Slow down there, old man. Wouldn't want to pull a muscle."

Chaff slapped him on the back. "You're no spring chicken yourself, 'Mitch."

Haymitch nodded. "You go if you want, I'll stay here. Need to keep an eye on Trinket, make sure she gets home safe."

"Make sure she gets to your bed safe, you mean?" Chaff raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, I've seen you eyeing her up all night, you want a bit of that."

Haymitch grabbed another drink and took a sip. "I do not want to sleep with Effie Trinket. I'd never hear the end of it if I did, anyway."

Both men halted their conversation as the Escort appeared, cheeks flushed from the heat in the room.

"Hello Haymitch," she sang and proceeded to take sips of her drink through a straw. "I have something I need you to do."

Haymitch heard Chaff snicker at his side and proceeded to give the older man a hardly discreet kick in the shin.

"And what is that?"

"I need you to come and dance with me." She extended a hand.

"What? No. I'm not gonna dance with you."

"Yes! Come on, it'll be fun!" She sang. "Don't worry, I'm a good dancer."

Effie grabbed his hand, unwilling to take no for an answer and began to attempt to pull him up, some loud and very unladylike noises escaping her as she tried to lift all 170-pounds of the victor. Both men smirked.

"I'm sure that you are. Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't dance - I drink." He pulled his hand away forcibly for fear of having it dislocated at the wrist.

"You are boring, Haymitch." She pointed out matter of factly. "Won't you come and join the party? Have some fun?"

"I'm already having so much fun, it may just be illegal."

She huffed. "I don't appr-appreciate the sarcasm, if you want to stay in your dark corner then fine – I'm going to find someone who wants to dance with me. And that man with the little strawberry daiquiri jellies."

With that, she left in pursuit of jelly and company.

"Reckon that's what she sounds like in the bedroom?"

Haymitch chuckled darkly. "I don't know. _Nor do I want to_."

Again, Chaff raised an eyebrow sceptically but decided to keep his mouth shut.

"She's wasted," Haymitch observed, effectively changing the subject.

Chaff nodded in agreement, taking another drink. "Not half as wasted as I'd like to be."

While his companion continued to empty glasses, Haymitch took a look at the circus of people the Capitol had chewed up and well and truly spat out. Hats, dresses, suits, wigs, shoes in all the damn colours of the rainbow it seemed, and patterns that hurt his eyes but somehow he couldn't stop staring at. Perhaps that was the idea; wear a pattern so offensive that it could make a man's eyes water so much so that he wouldn't know who the hell he was kissing until he woke up in the morning and it was a bit too late. He entertained himself with the thought for a while as others brushed passed him, each outfit stupider than the last.

Some things he saw weren't as crazy as what he'd seen Trinket in but could still be safely defined by the word 'ridiculous'. He recalled a dress and matching headdress she had custom-made from hundreds of swan feathers painted orange, gold and white. He told her she looked like a hen and laughed about it for quite some time, much to her annoyance.

The image of the obnoxious creation faded from his mind as he felt Chaff nudging him in his side. "Hey, you might want to take a look at this."

Haymitch followed the older mans outstretched finger and saw that gracing the top of one of the buffet tables was none other than strait-laced, moralistic Effie Trinket.

Her shoes had been discarded at the foot of the table along with most of the food and decorations and, always the exhibitionist; she had managed to round up a small crowd that now cheered her on as she drank more and more and more.

Both men watched as she shouted something, incoherent over the clamour of the party, which received a loud applause from most of the men in her little troop.

"What'd she say?"

Chaff shrugged in response. "No idea… Oh my-"

Haymitch watched as both of her arms were freed from their lilac confines, leaving the rest of the dress to pool around her waist, her lace underwear the only thing standing between her and a spot on the front page of every Capitol newspaper tomorrow morning. He could only imagine the headlines.

"Not exactly an elegant drunk, is she?" Chaff guffawed, slapping his knee.

Haymitch was completely stunned into silence, too baffled to even laugh. He was certain he wouldn't be able to look at her in quite the same way again and he made a vow that she would never hear the last of this, at least not if he could help it.

To make matters worse, now she began to dance rather…provocatively up against one of the marble columns, singing along to the words of the song. Every so often she would take another drink, the liquid sloshing from the glass to the table and floor as she danced.

"You gonna go get her?" Chaff eventually wheezed out between laughs.

The mentor paused, waiting for some climax to her little routine. It came as the lilac dress was kicked away revealing a little more of his colleagues flesh than he had bargained for.

"Yeah I'm gonna go get her," he spoke, already beginning to weave through the throngs of people in the room.

Despite the protests of many, including her own, Haymitch managed to get a truly obliterated Effie Trinket down from the buffet table, effectively stopping her from removing any other items of clothing. Though really, he thought as he half walked – half carried her home, he wouldn't have minded to see a bit more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Original Prompts (both anon): "I have a prompt for you :) Effie finds out about Johanna's little striptease in the elevator and gets all jealous because Haymitch didn't seem to mind one bit XD" and: "one where effie is jealous of haymitch seeing johanna naked so she shows him that she could be sexier? idk take this where you want." **

* * *

"Oh, Katniss. Would it really be too much to ask for you to try to get to know these people?"

"Yes! They're crazy! All of them!"

Effie sighed exasperatedly. The night had been long and Katniss had returned from the tribute parade in a sour mood which in effect, had managed to dampen everybody's spirits.

"No, not all of them," Effie tried, "you must think of the Games – allies. And do try to remember your inside voice, dear."

In response, Katniss sunk down further into her chair, lips pressed together in a petulant scowl.

"Well who would you suggest we speak to or… try to get to know?" Peeta questioned, apparently the only one in a good enough mood to make a rational contribution to the conversation.

"Having someone like Finnick Odair on your side wouldn't hurt. Or Johanna Mason perhaps?"

Katniss snorted and both Peeta and Haymitch – who had remained suspiciously quiet since their return – shifted in their seats.

"What?" Effie glanced between all three victors, leaving the question openly addressed.

"I think I've seen _enough_ of Johanna Mason for a lifetime." Katniss said, smiling falsely.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Katniss…" Peeta half-groaned at her side. "Remember what Haymitch said."

"Will somebody please tell me what in heaven's name is going on?"

XxX

It was Peeta who told her of the events in the elevator in the end – Katniss too cross and Haymitch… well, she wasn't quite sure why he wasn't talking much.

"-and then she just kind of…took it off."

Effie felt her mouth fall open in shock but promptly snapped it closed. "She…she took off her clothes?"

"Yes. All of them." Katniss replied, still disgruntled.

Effie cleared her throat and turned her attention to Haymitch. "You've been awfully quiet. What exactly did you do about this?"

The mentor shuffled again. "What any reasonable gentleman in the situation would." He gave a tell-tale smirk. "Absolutely nothing."

"I thought as much! Katniss, Peeta, you are excused. You have an important day tomorrow."

The children stood.

"No, don't go. I need witnesses in case Trinket castrates me." Haymitch mock pleaded and, needless to say, both Katniss and Peeta left for their rooms in silence.

He chuckled and poured himself a glass of whisky from a nearby decanter, watching as Effie paced the room uneasily, muttering to herself about how she would be paying Johanna Mason a visit to give her the once-over on suitable social interactions.

"What the hell's crawled up your ass?"

Effie shot her colleague a cautionary glare. "Nothing has crawled up my… I am just dreadfully disappointed in you. Do you really want the children to think that you condone this kind of behaviour?"

"What was I meant to do? Ask her to put her clothes back on?"

"Yes!" She shrieked. "You are their mentor! You are supposed to set a good example!"

"I'm pretty sure Peeta was enjoying it too," Haymitch mumbled, obviously loud enough for her to hear.

"Ah! So you enjoyed it?" She strode towards him, an accusatory finger outstretched.

"Of course I did," He chuckled finding her frustration amusing. "What man wouldn't?"

That earned him a smack on the arm.

"The hell is wrong with you, woman?"

She ignored his question. "You need to apologise to Katniss and Peeta for your highly inappropriate behaviour before they leave for training tomorrow."

He made a face. "_Highly inappropriate behaviour_? I wasn't the one who took my damn clothes off!"

"Yes, and rest assured that I will be having words with Johanna too." She clipped.

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

She pursed her lips. "Say all you will, I am simply doing my job and part of that job is to ensure that the tributes are comfortable during their stay in the Capitol. Having someone strip off in front of you makes for a most _un_comfortable situation, thus it is my job to discourage this kind of conduct."

Haymitch groaned. She was pissed off, that much was evident. From years of arguing, he had picked up on her tendency to rant about her job when she was upset. "Apparently it's my job to keep you in line",was one of her favourites.

"Y'know, you could learn a thing or two from Johanna."

Effie scoffed. "Oh, like what?"

"Like how to lighten the hell up." He answered taking a step forwards.

"Well if that is what you class as fun, then no thank you." She breathed, suddenly aware of just how close he had gotten.

"Oh stop being such a prude." His breath was hot on her skin and stunk of alcohol

"I'm not-"

"Then stop being jealous."

"I'm – why would I be jealous?" Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip unintentionally.

"Because you think that Johanna Mason could flaunt her womanly assets much better than you could?"

"That is not – I'll have you know that I could… flaunt my assets much better than she could any day of the week."

It was blatant that she was bluffing – just trying to prove her point – and Haymitch wondered just how far she was willing to go to do just that.

"Well I think I'll be the judge of that, sweetheart."

Her face hardened at his implication and he prepared for an objection.

"What you are suggesting… it is highly inappropriate given our relationship don't you think?" She arched an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "If you don't want to do it, I ain't forcing you. But just so you know, Johanna's winning."

"She is?"

"By a mile, sweetheart." He smirked derisively.

This bought a frown to her painted lips and Haymitch could almost see the cogs ticking away in her brain. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Fine," he replied, unable to keep the smirk from his face.

Both waited in a thick silence, unable to ignore the predicament.

"I'm not sure if you know but this is the part where you're meant to take your clothes off," he spoke eventually, not being at all discrete about it.

She smacked his arm again. "Be quiet! What if the children were to hear?"

"Just saying. Look, if you're not going to do it-"

"I am," she interrupted. "Just not - I'm not doing it here. I do have some standards."

Effie glanced around herself hastily before gesturing for him to follow her. He did and she could almost feel his smirk burning into her back all the way to her bedroom. She would never hear the end of this.

Once inside, he sat on the edge of her bed, cradling the glass of whiskey in his hands though as soon as she made a point of locking the door, he set it down on the nightstand.

"Now, are you sitting comfortably?" She questioned and he grinned.

"More than comfortable, sweetheart."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "You breathe a word of this to anyone…"

He held up his hands, conceding. "It'll be our dirty little secret, don't you worry."

Effie flinched at his choice of wording but nodded nonetheless.

Her gold wig – the only thing he had ever seen her wear on more than one occasion – was the first thing to be removed and, as if she couldn't help herself for a moment, placed meticulously on the dresser as if it were her most prized possession in the world. She had begun to mutter under her breath, closing her eyes every now and then.

Haymitch watched as her hands went to the abundance of blonde hair that was held down by clips and began to pluck them out one-by-one. Once done, curls fell across her shoulders which she was quick to ruffle, a simple gesture that managed to send his blood rushing south.

"Get a good look at this, Abernathy. You won't be seeing it again." She gestured to her hair.

"Hmm," was all he could manage feeling indulged and complacent that he was yet to see more of her.

She reached a hand around to the back of her dress and began to pull at the powder blue ribbon that held her in, drawing it away deliberately slowly. Once freed from the rungs, she let it flutter to the carpet, landing in a heap.

The rest of the dress was looser now, the blue ruffles pooling around her shoulders and exposing the milky flesh up to the top of her breasts.

He cleared his throat, noticing it had become dry as she glanced up seductively in his direction.

One small movement on her part sent the fabric cascading to her waist and she shimmied out of it the rest of the way, kicking the dress away when it reached her ankles.

As she stood before him, virtually stark naked, he realised just how much he was beginning to like her competitive side. He found his gaze lingering a few seconds longer than it should and his fingers itching to touch her for himself.

She was purposefully teasing as she removed her underwear, glancing up coquettishly every now and then. She was taking her time and Haymitch was growing impatient, so much so that he considered getting up and taking the damn things off her himself, but when she finally did he felt his breath hitch at the back of his throat.

She was stunning. God, how he wanted to hit himself for thinking that. Her waist. Her hips. Her thighs. Her breasts. Everything seemed to captivate him. He was losing control and fast. He was so far-gone that if she told him to jump from the penthouse roof he would probably do it without a second thought.

It annoyed him how, with nothing but her nakedness, he was wrapped around her little finger. It made him want to yell at her and pin her back against a mattress all at the same time.

"So what do you think? Better or worse?" Her eyebrows were raised suggestively.

He snapped himself awake, thought of something witty to say. "You're about on a par."

She opened her mouth. "On a par?"

He nodded. "You really can't stand to lose can you, Trinket?"

She stood motionless for a moment, holding his gaze and thinking again.

He wasn't prepared for the moment that she strode towards him and took hold of his shoulders, her legs straddling either side of his hips as she sat down in his lap.

"What about now?" She teased and lent in to place a kiss on his neck, stubble grazing her lips deliciously.

"Well now, you see," he began but stopped to sigh as she continued to kiss him, pulling at the collar of his shirt to get to his collarbone. "The tables have turned."

"Oh," she pulled away momentarily, voice low and husky. "I'm glad to hear it. So now am I-?"

She didn't have to finish. "Better. Definitely better.


End file.
